The Chairman
12-20-2002, 10:19 PM
So we ate at John Harvard's Brew House tonight (chain - decent beer, fair food) and there was a Border's books (chain) next door and we needed to buy some last minute gifts.
And they have a lot of people in there buying really bad books.
And they have a coffee bar with ridiculous people drinking cappuccino's at 10 PM. I say to myself again that these people should know, YOU NEVER drink a cappuccino after 10 AM! I'm a little snobby like that.
And then I heard something in the corner of the store.
Some college kid, like 18 years old is set up with an acoustic guitar plugged into a little amp. And he's really nervous. And they're all these people sitting down in front of him. Whether they were there just to sit and drink their stuff or hear what the guy was gonna do I just don't know.
And the kid's sweating. He looks like it's his first "public" gig.
And I experience an empathy attack and actually start sweating and walk away and go see if they have anything by John Hawkes among the millions of Harry Potter books.... or if Don DeLillo's The Body Artist has come out in paperback yet. And as I stumble over huge displays of sucky books for the masses who consider Oprah the avatar of modern literary criticism.... and walk by stacks of the latest James Patterson and Dr. Phil and Rudy Giuliani books I hear a slight cough and the opening chords of....
Wilco's "Jesus, etc."
And in this surreal moment, I stumble over masses perusing pabulum puke and look at this guy and it's just him and a guitar and a little amp and a song by Jeff Tweedy.
And I experience a transcendent moment.
And I forgive Border's for not having any of Hawke's books or The Body Artist in either hardcover or soft.
And I listen.
And I sing along. And he looks at me and my girlfriend (who programmed my new cell phone to ring to Wilco's Kamera) and we just stand there and listen and we make eye contact and in one ephemeral moment you can see he knows we "get it" and you can see his flushed face loosen and the sweat start to stop. And for that moment the Border's Muzak XMAS carols fade away.... and I just feel good.
And we clap and we whistle and we just plain are thankful for the serendipity of having been there.
And as I walk away, Mr. Young Nervous Guy breaks into an REM tune.
But Jesus, etc. has already been imprinted: the notes following me in a Doppler Effect as I leave the store.
Now I went to see Wilco seven times this year.
But tonight was special. More special than if Jeff was singing the song right there, jet lagged, having sung it the day before 300 miles from home and his son Spencer and his wife and whatever else.
Sometimes it's just all good.
For a moment in time:
No more anxiety and hardwood floors.
No poems of unrest.
No chronic symbiosis.
No force fed commercialism in inchoate places.
No operators standing by.
No limited liability.
No waiting ceremonies.
Just eternity singing.
peace
Happy Holidays
CK1
<img src = http://thereisnogod.faithweb.com/images/kaga.gif>
thanks ADF for the SigPic!!
I'll take that Chesterfield now...
This message was edited by Chairman_Kaga on 12-21-02 @ 10:53 AM
And they have a lot of people in there buying really bad books.
And they have a coffee bar with ridiculous people drinking cappuccino's at 10 PM. I say to myself again that these people should know, YOU NEVER drink a cappuccino after 10 AM! I'm a little snobby like that.
And then I heard something in the corner of the store.
Some college kid, like 18 years old is set up with an acoustic guitar plugged into a little amp. And he's really nervous. And they're all these people sitting down in front of him. Whether they were there just to sit and drink their stuff or hear what the guy was gonna do I just don't know.
And the kid's sweating. He looks like it's his first "public" gig.
And I experience an empathy attack and actually start sweating and walk away and go see if they have anything by John Hawkes among the millions of Harry Potter books.... or if Don DeLillo's The Body Artist has come out in paperback yet. And as I stumble over huge displays of sucky books for the masses who consider Oprah the avatar of modern literary criticism.... and walk by stacks of the latest James Patterson and Dr. Phil and Rudy Giuliani books I hear a slight cough and the opening chords of....
Wilco's "Jesus, etc."
And in this surreal moment, I stumble over masses perusing pabulum puke and look at this guy and it's just him and a guitar and a little amp and a song by Jeff Tweedy.
And I experience a transcendent moment.
And I forgive Border's for not having any of Hawke's books or The Body Artist in either hardcover or soft.
And I listen.
And I sing along. And he looks at me and my girlfriend (who programmed my new cell phone to ring to Wilco's Kamera) and we just stand there and listen and we make eye contact and in one ephemeral moment you can see he knows we "get it" and you can see his flushed face loosen and the sweat start to stop. And for that moment the Border's Muzak XMAS carols fade away.... and I just feel good.
And we clap and we whistle and we just plain are thankful for the serendipity of having been there.
And as I walk away, Mr. Young Nervous Guy breaks into an REM tune.
But Jesus, etc. has already been imprinted: the notes following me in a Doppler Effect as I leave the store.
Now I went to see Wilco seven times this year.
But tonight was special. More special than if Jeff was singing the song right there, jet lagged, having sung it the day before 300 miles from home and his son Spencer and his wife and whatever else.
Sometimes it's just all good.
For a moment in time:
No more anxiety and hardwood floors.
No poems of unrest.
No chronic symbiosis.
No force fed commercialism in inchoate places.
No operators standing by.
No limited liability.
No waiting ceremonies.
Just eternity singing.
peace
Happy Holidays
CK1
<img src = http://thereisnogod.faithweb.com/images/kaga.gif>
thanks ADF for the SigPic!!
I'll take that Chesterfield now...
This message was edited by Chairman_Kaga on 12-21-02 @ 10:53 AM